


Bag of Bones

by Evadere



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Operation Positivity, Sassy Peter Hale, Sterek Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:05:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evadere/pseuds/Evadere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please. Don't say that.” The sour scent of pain was enough to choke on, startling his eyes open. Stiles continued, his voice low, steady. “It makes you sound like you've given up. Like you think your life isn't worth fighting for.”</p><p>But it's not, he thinks. Even the Devil doesn't want it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bag of Bones

**Author's Note:**

> I kept seeing Operation Positivity all over my dash on tumblr, and being that it was Sterek week, I wanted to participate in some way. I've been in bed with a cold while writing this, but it kept me from going stir crazy. It went unbeta'd, my apologies. Any mistakes will be edited upon discovery! Until then I'll be laying here, downing tea and chicken soup and going through tissues like a madwoman.
> 
> There are spoilers up to 3x06, Motel California.

 

_I've tried to sell my soul_

_But no one's buyin'..._

**Today** , Everlast

 

 

 

“Chairs.”

Derek blinked slowly, turning towards the interruption. “What?” 

“If we're spending hours researching all of these ridiculously detailed, and might I add, outdated maps, the least you could do is have some more chairs.” Stiles didn't even bother making eye contact during his grumbling, opting for highlighting two sectors on the eleven year old typography map on the table. 

Rather than encourage their usual banter, Derek moved away from his (only) chair in the loft, and joined Stiles on the other side of the table. He pointed to an unmarked sector, frowning. 

“Peter and Isaac found nothing here.” Several expressions played out on the face next to him, each slightly more frustrated than the first. 

“That's it. I'm done with these maps, I'm returning to the 21st century.” Stiles was on the couch, opening his laptop whispering, “Yes, I know baby, I've missed yo too..” before Derek could raise an eyebrow.

He did it anyway.

“You know your eyebrows aren't effective on me anymore. I'm in serious need of refueling. Tell me you at least have a a mini fridge or a pantry in that gigantic hole over there.”

Ignoring Stiles, Derek picked up his wallet and headed out the door. There was only one solution to this situation.

 

\- -

_He hadn't expected to find Stiles back at the Hale house, fingers black from rubbing the warning on his door. Or to have him walk in with Isaac, shoulders set in a way that refused any argument against his help. They worked together day after day, the wolves searching, as Derek and Stiles bickered, pushed each other, and begrudgingly accepted the other until Stiles found himself a place there. Derek soon found the days bright, the bricks in his loft warm with sunlight, and the weight on his chest no longer as suffocating._

\- -

 

Stiles was nose deep in the book Derek had left on his one and only, uncomfortable chair, when the smack of the greasy bag against his forehead had him stumbling sideways.

“What the hell wa- oh yes where have you been all of my life, sweet golden rings of-” Derek didn't even bother swinging the bag out his reach, disgusted and yet fascinated by how quickly Stiles grabbed, opened, and proceeded to shove at least a dozen curly fries into his mouth. Between bites, he declared something along the lines of taking back anything he'd ever said about Derek's eyebrows.

“Do you always try to make eating look as unattractive as possible?” When all he received as an answer was a smile so wide, that a half chewed curly fry fell out, he grunted. They ate in comfortable silence, Derek opting for the couch, while Stiles inhaled his lunch. Some time passed before the thick hardcover he had been reading earlier was dropped on his lap, greasy fingerprints visible in daylight.

“Don't you know how to use a napkin?” If his glare was still capable of instilling fear, Stiles didn't show it. He just watched Derek wipe the smudges with his own napkin, curiously.

“I think the important question here is why do you have a book on crossroads?”

“It's not mine, it's Peter's.” The lie came easily, but he should have expected Stiles to remain inquisitive. Whether he was in a patrol car with an alleged murderer, a night club with a kanima or in a decent sized loft with an irritable werewolf, he would always ask questions.

“You think the alphas made a deal with the Devil? That they have no souls? Oh no, maybe they're possessed? Wait, whoa, what if they're secretly Britney fans? Uh, not that I've ever seen that or anything...” His grin wavered near the end, the light in his eyes fading as he waited.

“You're the one that told me to not rule anything out. We haven't found anything yet!” Derek crossed his arms, keeping his annoyance in check while anger laced his words. If the wall behind Stiles wasn't actually missing, he would have been tempted to shove him against it.

“Patience you must have, my young Padawan.”

Derek stared, unamused.

“Oh come one, not you too? Is that like a requirement for werewolfage, the complete and utter lack of knowledge on sci-fi classics?... So should I start placing my bets on this fight? Sour Wolf versus Demon Wolf.” Stiles curled his fingers and growled, watching Derek exhale, his hands cradling the book. He lowered his arms, taking a step towards Derek before thinking better of it. “Okay okay, sorry. I'm trying here. Just... read it all you want if it helps.”

Derek followed his movements back to the table, before his gaze dropped to the book in his lap.

“We'll find them Derek, no matter what.”

Stiles was wrong. The book didn't help.

Not at all.

 

\- -

_Peter hadn't questioned Derek when he left for Nevada. He didn't believe the story of a potential defense against the alphas. The desperation rolling off of Derek however, was something he could believe in. So Derek left the three of them in Beacon Hills, left his territory, and drove until he found himself on a dirt road, and prepared._

_He should have felt at ease in the dark, but the starless night offered nothing against the heat of the desert. His blood sang with anticipation, but his wolf was tense, wary. He stood at the crossroads, silent, waiting._

_The softest of winds teased the back of his neck. He shifted, turning onto his knees, and snarled as his claws dug into the dirt._

“ _Now now, is that any way to greet a guest? After all, you did invite me here.” The thing in front of Derek looked like a man, from his voice to his very mannerisms as he circled Derek. He tied his hair back with lean hands, before adjusting the vest he wore over a button down shirt and immaculate slacks. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing a map of ink across both forearms, symbols and lines foreign to any human, or werewolf._

“ _It worked.” He remained shifted, confused as to the lack of stench coming from the demon._

“ _You're awfully clever, I see. However I don't have all night, you know, hell hounds to feed, little children to possess, that sort of thing...” He stopped directly in front of Derek, leaned in close enough to feel the whiskers on his jaw. “How can I be of service?”_

_Derek closed his eyes, listening to the silence. The quiet of the dark night. The empty space between the demon's chin and his own. The utter stillness of the dust beneath his feet. The words felt broken on his tongue, cutting with each exhale. “My... My pack. I.. I want them. Can yo- can you bring them. Back?”_

_The demon leaned back, looking down at the wolf, expression thoughtful. He made his way around Derek again, circling as his words filled the space between them. “You must be aware of the price. Even with a pretty face like yours...I'm not fond of kissing animals...” He took delight in watching Derek grit his teeth, his fist clenching. Once again he stopped in front of Derek, and asked him what amount of years he deemed enough._

“ _I thought it was ten. Isn't that how it works, my soul for a deal?”_

“ _Did you google crossroads, is that it? Each demon names their price, and when to collect. Though I am a traditionalist of sorts, so ten is a nice round number. That way you'll come to me full of sweet memories that will feel wonderful to rip away and devour over and over.” The demon's smile did nothing to qualm Derek's wolf._

“ _Can you do it?”_

_This time, the demon remained where he was, quietly fiddling with the buttons on his vest. “Well it's no small feat you ask for, raising the dead. Hale numbers aren't small either... though the thought of making you relive a reunion would be delicious...”_

_It must have shown on Derek's face, in the stiffness of his arms, and the quickness of his breath as he stepped forward. The demon stopped him, a hand to his chest, a look of feigned innocence worn over his features. “Oh my, silly me. You meant your new pack. How rude of me.”_

“ _Wou-”_

“ _Don't insult me, of course I could. It doesn't matter anyway, I won't help you. You have nothing I desire.” He lifted his chin, not the least bit concerned with the red eyes glaring up at him._

“ _I have a soul, what the hell else do you want? My car? My body? My wolf?”_

“ _I'm not really a Camaro kind of-” Derek snarled, picking the demon up, claws ripping into his vest. He shook the demon, seething, shouting for deal. For Erica. For Boyd. For his pack. His family. He only stopped when his throat burned, and his knees fell to the dirt, claws still clinging to the demon above him. He begged. Hands tightened around his own, crushing his fists, bringing them away from ripped fabric, and throwing them down.. The demon took hold of Derek's chin, tilting it up so he could witness the demon's fury. His black eyes were endless._

“ _You fool, no demon will make a deal with you. We all know Derek Hale's soul is not for sale. ” He leaned in, his tone dripping with pity and ridicule. “You should never piss a demon off, boy. They'll claim you and make sure there is no end to your suffering.” He shoved Derek away, laughter fading into the night._

_A painful howl echoed for a long time after._

\- -

 

“Are you seriously going through with this? Ugh, never mind of course you are. Stupid me for thinking you'd actually have a non-suicidal plan for once!” Stiles let himself into the loft, slamming the door behind him. Derek looked up from the bank schematics, suddenly grateful that Peter had taken Cora and Boyd to lunch. Stiles huffed, wiping his palms on his jeans, clearly put out from slamming the much-heavier-than-it-appeared door. “Don't think I can't see what you're doing.”

“What might that be?” He crossed his arms, looking down with one eye brow raised, then up, his signature defensive stance. Stiles was not having any of it. He stalked forward, tripping and cursing the stupid chair, before slamming his palms into Derek's chest, pushing him back. Derek was caught off guard, amused by his flailing, and not expecting the physical tirade Stiles was currently unleashing.

“You.” Push. “Don't.” Push. “Care.” Stiles jabbed his pointer finger right below Derek's collar bone, furious. He may have winced from the jamming his finger, but he would never admit it. When his accusation went unanswered, he grabbed a hold of his own hair and tugged, exasperated. “Why are you so determined to get yourself killed?”

“I'm doing it for pack. To keep everyone safe. I'm willing to make that sacrifice, if it comes.” Derek tried not to let the exhaustion creep into his voice, and failed. He turned around and sat on the edge of his bed, palms resting against his forehead. He hears footsteps, the slight hesitation, and then Stiles is sitting next to him, knees touching.

“You don't get to make that decision.” Derek stills, red eyes finding him. “No, don't pull that Alpha shit on me either. This isn't about sacrifice. Yes, we lost Erika, but you have Boyd and Isaac. You have a sister. Scott and I are here, and I don't care what you think of Allison or Lydia, but they have our backs. Hell, even Peter, who is legitimately creepy, is your pack. They're your responsibility, but even more than that, they need you. What happens when they lose their Alpha?”

Derek turns away, eyes on his feet. “I'm not Scott's alpha.”

“Oh my god, seriously?! That's what you chose to take away from that? Listen, why not pull a Scott and think before doing this? Find a different way!” Stiles spread out his hands, twisting to the side. He waited, Derek quiet and motionless. “Well?!”

“Because there isn't another way! Because if I can give my life so that they can live theirs, it can mean something! Because I'm just-” He stopped, letting out a long breath. Stiles was watching him, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, realization shifting his features. Derek closed his eyes. “I'm just tired.”

“Please. Don't say that.” The sour scent of pain was enough to choke on, startling his eyes open. Stiles continued, his voice low, steady. “It makes you sound like you've given up. Like you think your life isn't worth fighting for.”

But it's not, he thinks. Even the Devil doesn't want it.

“What life, Stiles? My family, my pack, is dead. My uncle is a psycho, my sister can't stand the sight of me. My betas left me, got killed, and don't trust me. Scott never wanted my help. I can't stop failing everyone.”

“Then don't. Keep fighting, find your instinct to survive. Find the will to carry on. We all have to.” His words were whispered now, pleading with Derek to just listen.

“Your will doesn't matter, we're all the same. Just a bag of bones, waiting to break.” His face disappeared into his hands, as Stiles reached out, hands hovering over his shoulder. He gripped Derek tight, urging Derek to remember. He was a werewolf. His bones were stronger. They'll heal.

No, not really, Derek thought. Healing just means gives them more chances to break again.

 

\- -

_He didn't remember making it back to the loft._

_The memory of the fall rolls over him as he doubles over in pain, throwing Jennifer off balance, and earning him a crash to the floor._

_He comes to, his shirt being lifted as she looks at his wounds. Her heartbeat is steadier than he imagined it would be under the circumstances. He remembers his pack, impatient, as Jennifer reasons with him. She's not frightened, he needs to heal. The exhaustion finds him again, and he feels boneless, sagging under the weight of another failure._

_Her touch, soft, reassuring, reminds him. He is wanted. He chases the feeling, starved, trying to taste his worth. Derek searches for a will in their entangled limbs. He clings to her, finding survival in this one pleasure he'll allow himself. He comes to the sound of his name on her lips, to giving in._

_His wolf rumbles at her hand on his neck, but he let's go, the overwhelming scent of blood and sweat surrounding him. It snaps his teeth and he opens his eyes, inhaling again. He smells blood and sweat and nothing. She feels him stiffen, giving his earlobe a soft lick, before meeting his eyes. The sudden twist and snarl is expected, but she tightens her grip on his neck, pulling his hair until his throat is bare. His wolf howls, body trembling as she slides onto his lap._

“ _Oh sweetie, look at you. Trying so hard.” She tilts her head, the black in her eyes swallowing the light, refusing to reflect the red in his own. She snaps her teeth, her chuckle rich, twisting the air around them until he can't breathe. She traces a fingertip along his Adam's apple, before quirking an eyebrow. “Did you miss me?”_

_He brings his claws up, furious, but she swats them away, his fingers burning. She shoves him onto his back, one arm pinning him. Her tongue leaves a wet, glistening trail of saliva from his hip to his chest. “Hmmm that never gets old.” With her hand still on his chest, she sits back, wearing Jennifer's sweet smile like an ill fitting pair of boots. “So, I heard you were trying to make a deal. I thought you might one day, so I took precautions. After all, you're a walking hunk of guilt that is too delicious to forget.”_

“ _How ar-”_

“ _Oh please, spare me the boring questions.” She rolled her hips, and Derek stilled. “Get to the fun ones, the meat. Then maybe we can go for round two.” Black eyes studied him, following the clenching of Derek's jaw, the white knuckled grip on his sheets, and the soft fade of red from his glare._

“ _What's your price?”_

“ _See... now there's a good boy. How about this? I'll bring them all back, and give you one month. No wait, two months, just so you can remember what it feels like to run with them again. Or would you rather I save the pathetic little runts you've acquired since I've been gone?” Derek doesn't answer, expression blank. Her grip on his chest tightens, her lips curling as she leans in. “I can do it, you know. Save you from the alpha pack, save them all from dying. I'd even give you a year before I collect.”_

_Derek wants to take it. Even if he wants nothing more than to never feel her this close to him again, he'd reach up and bring her lips to his, if it meant saving them all. “Giving me a year? Maybe Hell warmed you up a bit.” Seeing her eyes narrow made the sting of her nails across his chest worth it._

“ _You think the price is just your soul? Looks like our little pup learned nothing. I ripped you apart from the inside out and burned the rest of you and I plan to remind you of that for an eternity. No, your soul is worthless now. I don't want it until you've lived years spent in agony, knowing what I took from you.” She laughed then, eyes glittering with malice. “No, I'd give you ten years, but I'd only give him one.”_

_Derek explodes, lunging forward, teeth bared as the instinct to fight rises within him, rattling his bones. She rushes forward, crashing their mouths together, swallowing his roar. The last thing he remembers is the taste of ash._

\- -

 

Boyd finds him, naked under sheets coated with dry, blackened blood. He helps him to the shower, while Cora strips his bed. Peter leaves them to care for Derek, before retuning with a cup of thick, purple tea. It's for rejuvenation, he explains. When Derek finally drinks it, he vomits until he faints.

Given the glares from the wolves, Peter merely points out that it wasn't meant to be enjoyable.

Hours later, Derek comes to with a frown, his cheek still stinging from a slap. He tried to focus, his stomach feeling empty, but at ease. “What?”

“You seriously need to consider expanding your vocabulary. The first one was so I can make sure Peter didn't actually put you into a coma. This one is for getting yourself killed to the point of almost no return.” Stiles slapped him again, this time earning a satisfying grunt as Derek shoved him several feet away. “How the hell did you get out of there?”

He jerked his head toward Stiles, the haze of Peter's medicine fading as memories tore at his consciousness. “Stiles. I-” He shit his mouth, unsure of how to even begin. His lips formed a thin line as he glanced down at Stiles, hesitant.

Stiles rubbed at his shoulder, pushing himself off the floor and moving until he's looking down at Derek, waiting. The silence is long, as Derek struggles to find the words, the magnitude of last night a dead weight on his limbs. His forehead comes to a rest on Stiles stomach, and with a shudder he is speaking, tongue bitter with memories of ash, dust and an eternity of black. Soon after hands rest upon his shoulders as he apologizes, lost.

“I'm not letting her take you. She's obviously sniffing extra crazy glue if she thinks I'm going either. Seriously, do you know how easily my skin burns? Hell fire red would not be a good look for me.” He gives Derek's shoulder a familiar squeeze before making his way to the door. His fingers shake, but they are already typing Lydia's number, because he's got this, a plan.

“You won't be able to stop her.” Derek flinches, knowing Stiles will hate the way his voice cracks. He just doesn't see another way out. No matter how much he wants to.

Stiles paused. His eyes shone with determination, cheeks flushed and teeth bared. “Watch me.”

 

\- -

“ _Wow, that was so beyond inappropriate that I can't eve-”_

“ _If it wasn't a matter of life, death and brimstone, I wouldn't ask... probably!” Waving his hands in a dismissive gesture, Stiles resisted the impulse to shout. Jennifer's expression of mild alarm was replaced with curiosity. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled through her mouth, just like her therapist told her to do under strenuous circumstances. Not that having a student ask for a piece of her hair and if she remembered sleeping with a turns-furry-once-a-month model, would necessarily be the example he gave her. Then again, finding a bleeding werewolf in the school parking lot, taking him to his loft and then waking up in her apartment alone, with no memory was definitely not an everyday thing for her._

_She plucked two strands from her head, and handed them to Stiles. “Why do you need my hair again?” As she placed the strands in a plastic bag, he rattled off a brief story about demons, crazy exes, sexy possessions and a few colorful words about destroying a lovely sounding lady named Kate. “Wait, you mean I had sex with Derek and I don't even get to remember it?”_

“ _I know, it's a travesty really. That's demons for you, totally incons- Oh my God that's your worry? Hello, crazy demon ex that we need to exorcise here!” Stiles veered off the main road, turning into the cemetery. Allison, Lydia and Scott were already waiting, shovels cast aside on the mound of dirt next to an open grave. “All right, let's go kill a demon.” He parked the jeep, keys in the ignition as he turned to stare at her. “You're surprisingly calm about this whole supernatural shit storm you've found yourself in.”_

_Jennifer tried stop the nervous tick of her upper lip curling ever so slightly, usually mistaken for a hesitant smile. “Oh, well I know all about crazy exes. I mean, my last one tried to eat me.” Stiles jaw dropped, eyes narrowing as she watched him to try to wrap his mind around that tidbit. “You'd think that after dating a Selkie and nearly drowning, that I'd try and find a nice normal guy. But noooo Jennifer, you had to land yourself a charming ghoul. I like to tell myself that we had a mutual parting of ways, you know? I mean, I didn't want be eaten, and I think deep down, he didn't want to eat me either. Hmm.” She turned away toward the door, biting her lip and looking every which way but at Stiles._

“ _Huh.” He just continued to stare, stupidly. Stiles shook his head, and turned off the jeep. “Well, I kind of hope you survive the school year, because I'm pretty sure you'd fit right in with us...” His nervous laughter trailed off as he exited the jeep. Jennifer stayed put, thinking back on how she ended up in Beacon Hills. Clearly she was a magnet for gorgeous, supernatural, insane creatures. Great. How would she bring that up with her therapist?_

_When she worked herself out of her own thoughts, she caught sight of the fire, tugging her out of the jeep and towards the grave. As she stepped up next to Stiles, who was muttering some type of language in tune with Lydia, she felt her dizzy, her knees buckling. The warm hands on her elbow and back came from Scott, who lowered her to the soft dirt gently. Even as she began to wheeze, her eyes couldn't help but focus on Allison, kneeling next to the grave, clutching a silver pendant, eyes hard with anger. Lydia threw a mixture of hairs and herbs onto the fire, Stiles a handful of salt. It wasn't until Allison threw in the pendant that her skin felt raw, exposed. She screamed, Scott cradling her head in his arms, as she clawed at the dirt, chest heaving. When Stiles shouted her name, it felt like his voice was carving it into her skin, and then nothing._

_She opened her eyes, the stars a soft blur as Stiles appeared above her. He was grinning, sweat soaked and ecstatic. He was motioning to Lydia, who seemed to observe the blackened pit beside them in agreement. Jennifer coughed, and sat up. “Holy crap it worked, I mean it had to duh.. but you're alive! This totally means we all pass English this year, right?” Scott lifted her to her feet with one arm over his shoulder, letting out a nervous chuckle._

“ _Only if you don't miss another class.” He snorted, but Stiles just smiled, helping Scott carry her back to the jeep._

_He was right. She would fit right in._

\- -

 

“No no no.. you stop that! No flirting allowed.”

Derek looked up from his book, watching Stiles flailing as he stepped in between Peter and their guest. Stiles had informed him a few days earlier that Jennifer was well versed in freaky crap, and that they should talk. More importantly, get the whole crazy demon possession sexy times discussion out of the way, Stiles words exactly. He hadn't expected it so soon, but then a knock on the door interrupted Boyd and Cora's sparring practice. They stilled for a moment, before continuing, Stiles and Derek went back to their respective books and Peter opened the door. He felt the spark of interest in his uncle before he heard his words, elegant and dripping with charm. Stiles all but flew out from behind the table, clearly more aware of the situation than Derek.

“What, can't I introduce my self to a lovely young woman?” Even Isaac, who had remained on the couch trying to focus on homework of all things, snorted. Peter rolled his eyes, before peering around Stiles and his restless limbs. “Your visage is quite striking.”

Jennifer glanced away from the man paying her compliments. Derek could hear her tongue running along the inside of her teeth. She gripped the tray in her hands, cleared her throat and met Peter's eyes. “The use of that adjective would lend to the idea that you also find me unusual, so I'm not sure how much of a compliment that is. Hmm, but you're a... You're, not so bad yourself.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, ignoring Stiles muttering about certain annoying features running in the family, before licking his lips. Stiles groaned, turning to face Jennifer, grabbing a hold of her shoulders. “Hey, don't encourage him! Life choices, remember? You seriously need to re-evaluate your attraction to dangerous beings!”

“Oh come now Stiles, you're about as much fun as Scott.”

“I am surprisingly okay with that, coming from you. No seriously, move along.” He made a discouraging face in hopes of relaying just how bad a decision Peter would be, before calling for back up. The betas dropped their tasks and crowded around Peter, distancing him from Jennifer. “Seriously Mrs. Blake, terrible terrible choice. Ignore his charm, he's actually terrifying.”

She just watched, mouth hanging open. Derek sighed, dropping the book on the table and walked down to greet her. He looked back at Stiles, still ranting about crazy exes. Derek raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. Everyone paused, Derek's eyes on Stiles, Peter's on Jennifer's.

“Oh it's not a big deal. I just had an ex-boyfriend try and eat me.” She smacked her lips together, humming awkwardly. Derek didn't even bother trying to process the statement, but Peter felt the need to over share.

“Well at least your ex didn't use you to burn down your entire family, only to come back, and try to kill you. Oh, and then die, come back as a demon, and totally possess the woman you slept with.” Jennifer let out a breath, eyes shifting to Derek. He grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“All right, you definitely win there. Oh, not that this is a contest or anything, I mean, clearly your ex was crazier but we're all apart of the same club, right? Uh, okay... hmmm, Stiles?” She fidgeted, waiting for Stiles to bring the conversation back around.

“Yes, Stiles. Carry on. I would love to learn more about Mrs. Blake.” Peter smiled down at Stiles, who just rolled his eyes and continued shoving him. He looked over at Derek, annoyed, before speaking to Jennifer.

“He killed his own niece, tried to kill all of us and rose from the freaking dead. He's like a billion times worse than a ghoul!” Peter huffed, clearly offended by the comparison. One rabid Alpha run hardly warrants being barred from socializing with pretty women. Besides, he preferred a medium steak or lightly seared rabbit to human flesh. He wasn't a complete savage. Stiles ignored his protests, and with the help of Isaac, Boyd and Cora, shoved Peter up the staircase and out of sight. Not before he offered a wink in Jennifer's direction, grinning at the flutter in her heartbeat.

That was a disaster waiting to happen. He would have to talk with Peter later. Derek turned back to Jennifer, catching her muttering something about a magnet, the blush fading from her cheeks. She glanced up at him, and offered him the foil covered tray. It smelled sweet and inviting.

“You made cupcakes?” It came out rougher than he expected, but her hands didn't waver. He took the tray, puzzled.

“Well, you did save my life. I mean apparently I sort of saved yours, but then the whole demon se- situation happened... Oh God not that this is a thanks for the se- uhh dessert or anything. I don't even remember it.. no, not the point. Oh boy. I uh. I wanted to say thank you... and that I'm- I'm..” She looked away, watching the wolves come back down. Isaac and Stiles made their way to the couch, covered in textbooks and papers. She followed Boyd and Cora's foot work as they continued their practice. She lifted her chin, catching Derek watching her, waiting. “I'm here to help.”

His silence didn't concern her. Derek turn around, bringing the cupcakes to the table. She shouldn't be here. She would get hurt. He told her this. Regardless, she followed behind him, proving him wrong with each breath. She knew what they were. She's dealt with the supernatural before. She can help them in school. She's one more number and there's strength in numbers. She stopped, turning towards Isaac, who called out to her. His beta held up Conrad's novel, sheepish. She could make them feel normal.

“What could be more mundane than homework?” He looks up at her then, her expression open, smile wide and fingers still against his own on the counter. He looks over at Stiles, who is walking over, completely at ease. Derek nods, and Jennifer walks past Stiles, whose whisper leaves her chuckling as she sits down next to Isaac. Stiles reached around Derek, lifting off the foil.

“Are those cupcakes?!” Again, Derek found himself completely fascinated and disgusted as he watched Stiles shove the treat into his mouth, barely able to close it as he groaned in delight with each chew. “Butter cream should be illegal ughh how is this real?”

“You eating in public should be illegal. I was raised by wolves, what's your excuse?” Derek's eyes track the smudge of frosting on his lower lip, his lips stuck between a smile and a grimace. Rather than respond, Stiles let out an all together inappropriate groan, walking around Derek to face the table. He shuffled old maps out of the way, bringing Deaton's book on mountain ash closer. He finally swallowed, making a grand show of smacking his lips and rubbing his belly.

“Come on, let's figure out another way to beat a pack of alphas.” Stiles grabbed another cupcake, grin wide as he took a slightly less obnoxious chunk into his mouth, frosting dropping onto his shirt. Derek lost the grimace, smirking as Stiles scooped up the frosting and smeared it on Derek's shoulder. His eyes flashed red, but it had no effect on Stiles. His laughter echoed in the loft, warm and infectious. Derek drank in the sound.

He felt it in his bones, settling.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This particular song stuck with me...Then I came across a meta on tumblr (which for the life of me I can't find, not in my likes or history.... it's driving me quite crazy), discussing angry ghosts and disturbed land, and a single line about the Jennifer/Derek scene in Motel California. Pointing to the crazy idea of Kate possessing Jennifer. Boom, I felt like I could wrap a story around those lyrics again. If anyone finds that particular meta, please let me know so I can link back to it.


End file.
